Blue
by BrightWings111
Summary: Elizabeth Gordon was on vacation. Nothing more, nothing less. But her plane crashes on a mysterious island in the Pacific with almost 50 other survivors. Among those survivors, is a man she found herself attracted to. Her bitterness over his death gives her the strength she needs to protect the others as best she can. But she can only hope. Boone/OC Rating may change
1. The Wreck of Oceanic Flight 815

**A/N: I've had this story written for quite some time, but a major writer's block cut my hopes of posting for a while. Well, here it is. I have this story set up as a post every other Wednesday. Let's see how long that lasts :/**

* * *

-The Wreck of Oceanic Flight 815-

* * *

Darkness. Pain. That's all there is. My whole body is screaming at me. _Move. Run. Wake up._ But I can't. It's telling me to make it move, but it won't listen when I tell it too. It makes no sense.

Now I notice that the normal flow of air through my lungs is gone. I'm not breathing.

In a panic, I try to gasp for air. My body doesn't respond. It's as if my body is dead, but I'm not. What had happened?

The plane. That's it. We had hit turbulence and lost control. Dad died; luggage fell out and hit his head. And I hit _my_ head on something. So what do I do to un-hit my head, to wake up?

Now I'm starting to hear voices. Orders, cries for help. Where are they coming from?

I start feeling a muffled pounding on my chest. _One, two, three._ Then a rush of hot air flows into my lungs; but just the one. I'm not breathing still. The pounding starts again, then the rush of air. It starts becoming a pattern. One, two, three, air. One, two, three, air.

One of the voices starts becoming clear. "Stop!" it's saying. It sounds like it's coming from right above me. "You're putting too much strain on her chest! Too much pressure and you'll push her broken rib right into her lung!" I have a broken rib?

It doesn't stop. One, two, three, air. One, two, three, air. The pounding starts going nonstop, even when the air flows in. It's disrupting the pattern. The air keeps coming though. Steadier and steadier. More painful with each breath.

Wait... breath. I'm breathing by myself again. The darkness is slowly chased away by the blue. The blue sky, the blue ocean, and those blue eyes.

The man those eyes belong to is looking down at me, his hands still on my chest. That pounding on my chest and that rush of air... that was CPR, wasn't it?

"Get her away from the engine," the voice from before says. I can't see who it belongs to. "Don't let her move too much." The man nods and carefully picks me up. I don't fight him, just go along with it. He sets me down a little ways off from the wreck, but still in sight.

"You heard the doctor," he says. "Don't move." I nod slightly and watch as he runs back to the wreck. I'm in a position to watch the whole beach.

A group of people are trying to move a piece of metal off of a man's leg. A girl is screaming in the middle of it. There are people running back and forth; moving things and helping people. I want to get up and help. But that man said a doctor had told me not to move. If he really is a doctor, I shouldn't move. But I want to help so badly. I can't just sit by and watch.

I try to push myself up. Pain erupts in my chest, causing me to lie back down. I try again, but the same thing happens. Again. Again. This time I stay down, breathing heavily. I don't have enough energy for this.

The whirring engine explodes, causing the whole beach to momentarily become a furnace. I stay here, cooling off and breathing steadily. A man in a suit and the man with the blue eyes run over.

"Can you hear me?" the man in the suit asks. It's the same voice as the man from before; he's the doctor if I pieced my information together correctly.

"Yeah," I say softly, my voice hoarse. It hurts much more to talk than I expect.

"You've got a broken rib," he explains.

"I heard," I reply.

"I'll need to examine it to set it," he says. "Which means that I'm going to have to ask your permission to remove your shirt." I not weakly without hesitation, although I know the color drains from my face. I just hope they don't see the scars on my back. I don't feel like explaining my entire life to them. "Alright. Help me get her shirt off without harming her rib." He must be talking to the other man.

He starts carefully wriggling my shirt up my stomach. I can see the broken rib looking painfully deformed and bulging up under my skin. The man with the blue eyes carefully lifts up my back, sliding my shirt up slowly. I take a deep breath as the fabric rubs against the permanent burns and scars. His knuckles brush against one, too. They linger there for a split second before continuing with my shirt.

When they finish getting my shirt off, the doctor rolls it up and puts it in my mouth. He starts examining my chest, applying pressure in several places. I wince a few times. He resets the bone as best he can, but without warning. I shriek into the cloth. "I'll be right back; I've got to go find something to bind it." He gives me a stern look. "Don't move." He runs back to the wreck.

"Hey," the other man says.

"Hey," I croak. It still hurts to speak, but I'll have to get used to it. And if that's going to happen, I've got to start somewhere.

"I'm Boone," he says. "I almost thought you were my sister, but then I realized she would never be so quiet."

"Is that so?" I say, trying not to giggle. "I don't think anyone unconscious could make a peep."

"Well..." he trails off. "She could probably figure out a way to complain while unconscious." This makes me laugh a little, which hurts like hell.

The doctor runs back with a roll of bandages and a piece of metal from the plane. He kneels next to me and places the metal on my stomach. It fits around perfectly. He uses the bandages to bind it on.

"That's the best I can do for now," he says. "It'll be uncomfortable, but it should help keep things in place." I nod. "You can move around now, but be careful."

"Thank you," I say, carefully slipping my loose green top on over the metal. It still bulged awkwardly, but I didn't particularly care about appearances. Boone helps me stand up. The doctor runs off to help someone else and I turn to face Boone, completely seeing him for the first time; his wild brown hair and his lean but muscular body. And his eyes. So I wasn't imagining how bright and blue they are. I hold out my hand. "I'm Liz."

"Nice to meet you," he replies, taking my hand. I turn my head and see the doctor examining a man with shrapnel in his stomach.

"I... I'm going to see if he needs my help," I stammer. The sight of the injury makes me feel queasy, but it's not the first time I've seen something like that. I've seen death and torture, most of which I'd rather forget. But memories aren't easily wiped away.

"I should probably check on my sister too," he says. "Don't be too careless."

"Don't worry." I smile a fake smile over the burning in my stomach. "I'm no stranger to pain."

* * *

I sit with my knees pulled up to my chest, staring out to the ocean. I never guessed I would end up stranded on some random island in the middle of the Pacific. In the past hour I've managed to meet most of the survivors, trying my best to remember names and faces.

Jack, Kate, and Charlie went off a little while ago to find the cockpit. I asked Kate to bring me the information they find. I can use it to figure out where we are.

Maybe.

I imagine I must look horrible. I slowly comb my fingers through my shoulder-length black hair and tie it back loosely. It felt good having my hair down for a while, but I have it pulled back so much for work that it's a habit now.

"Hey Liz." Boone sits next to me.

"Mistook me for your sister?" I ask, glancing up the beach at Shannon. "Excuses excuses."

"Well I – yeah, excuses," he replies. "Do I really need an excuse to administer CPR?"

"When a doctor is yelling at you to stop," I say smugly.

"You were already coming back?" he tries.

"_I'll_ buy it," I say. "Convince Jack. He thought you were going to kill me."

"Well I didn't, did I?" he asks.

"True," I reply. We both laugh a little. "Hey Boone." He looks up. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"What to you mean 'what for?'" I ask, punching him lightly on the arm. "For saving my life."

"That," he sighs. We sit in silence for a minute. "What do you do? You know, back in the... real world?"

"I'm a teacher," I respond. Half-truth.

"You look a little young to be a teacher," he points out.

"I'm 22," I say. "It's my first year. What do _you_ do?"

"I'm the COO of my mother's wedding company," he says. "I also lifeguard."

"Cool," I say, nodding. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jack, Kate, and Charlie walk out of the jungle. "I'll be right back." I get up and walk over to Kate, giving Boone a grateful look over my shoulder.

"How does your rib feel?" Jack asks. I turn to face him.

"Just fine," I lie. "Not even sore."

"Good," he replies. "I'll check up on it tomorrow." I nod and he walks away.

"I'll just go," Charlie says, jogging after Jack. I turn back to Kate when he gets out of earshot.

"What did you get?" I ask.

"A transceiver with no signal," she replies. "And the pilot was alive. He said we lost communication and turned for Fiji then hit turbulence. We're over 1,000 miles off course."

"Well, I can't do much with that," I mutter. "Sorry Kate, I don't know where we could be."

"Worth a shot," she says. "At least we have more info than we started with."

"That's always a good thing," I say.

"Yeah," she says. "Better than nothing." I turn to face the rest of the camp.

"I'm going to go help Jack," I say. I jog towards the rest of what little civilization is on this island; the wreck of a plane and its survivors.

"Don't push yourself!" she yells after me.

"Don't worry!" I call back. "I'll be fine!" In my distraction, I accidentally bump into someone. "Sorry-" I look up to see Shannon, Boone's sister.

"Watch where you're going," she snaps. She walks right past me towards Boone. I shrug and keep walking when I see a fight break out.

I think their names are Sawyer and Sayid. Jack and Kate break up the fight, and I run closer to hear what happened.

"He's an Iraqi terrorist!" Sawyer yells. "_He's_ the one who was in handcuffs!"

I didn't follow the rest of the conversation. Iraqi? That's something that I just can't forget. I may be stranded on an island with this guy, but we don't have to be friends, right? I'm not going to be friendly just because we're stranded together. My eyes narrow as I assess him. He looks strong, and smart. That might pose a problem.

I don't think I'll tell anyone what type of teacher I am yet. Well, teacher isn't exactly the right word for what I do. When I say "teacher", they think of something completely different than my job. This island though, it'll be a great lesson for my "students" that sometimes surviving _with_ the enemy is the best way to take them out.

I rush forward to help Jack with the bruise on Sayid's face.

* * *

**A/N: There's chapter one! Please review, I want to know what you think! If you liked it, why? If you didn't like it, why? Did you like Liz so far? Why is she used to death and torture? What could she possibly have against Sayid?! I want to know what you think :P You've got two weeks till chapter 2!**


	2. A Teacher of a Different Kind

**A/N: Well, the every other Wednesday skipped a week. It kinda lasted. Kinda. It's Wednesday today... either way, enjoy chapter 2~**

* * *

-A Teacher of a Different Kind-

* * *

I watch Sawyer intently as he pulls another suitcase towards his tent.

That's. My. Luggage.

I know he sees me giving him a glare. I know from experience that I can be downright intimidating when I need to. He ignores me and continues walking. I stand up.

"Sawyer!" I yell. He stops and looks at me. "That'd be _my_ checked luggage you got there!" I walk up to him.

"Prove it," he says. "There's a lock on the zippers." I fish a key out of my pocket and stick it in the lock. It opens. I give him an 'I told you so' look and grab the suitcase from him.

"Thank you for that," I grunt, putting the lock back on. "I'll be on my way now." I turn and start pulling my bag behind me.

"Hey Scrap!" he calls after me. I turn to face him.

"What did you just call me?" I ask. Where did _that_ one come from?

"You've got scrapmetal on your chest to bind your rib," he says. "So, you're Scrap."

"My name is Liz," I growl.

"So, Scrap," he says, completely ignoring my comment. "What's in the suitcase?"

"Clothes," I say. "Expecting anything else?"

"Hey, what you bring on a plane is your business," he shrugs. "I'm just curious." I roll my eyes and walk away.

I find a private spot just inside the jungle and sit down with my bag. I unlock it and open it. The first thing I see is my familiar camouflage jacket. I carefully remove it and drape it over my shoulders.

I dig through the rest of my clothes to the bottom, where my gun is. I pull it out and set it down next to me. I also pull out a pair of baggy khakis and a white tank. I quickly change into them. I fold up my jacket and put it on a nearby rock. I slip my gun in the waistline of my pants.

I begin doing some stretches I do with my recruits. Since my broken rib is on the left, I do some simple stretches with my left arm. Nothing too strenuous, but it needs something to keep the blood flowing well. I grimace as I reach as high as I can. I do some sideways and backwards stretches.

I hear whispering behind me. I snatch my gun and face where I heard the whispers. There's nothing there. I hear them behind me again, and I turn around again. They're all around me; and I keep turning. Whatever it is, it's not going to sneak up on me.

I hear a rustle in the bushes behind me and I whirl around, finding my gun pointed right at Sawyer.

"Whoa, Scrap," he says, putting his hands up. "Where'd the gun come from?"

"It was in my bag," I reply, putting my gun back in the waistline of my pants. His eyes dart to my jacket on the rock.

"You said you were a teacher," he accuses. "So unless that jacket belongs to a boyfriend or something-"

"It's mine," I cut him off.

"So you lied," he says.

"No, I _am_ a teacher," I say. "Just not the kind you picture in your head when you hear the words. I work with weapons training in the US Army. I work a little bit of everything, really; firearms, explosives, hand-to-hand, survival skills, and strategy."

"And how old are you?" he asks.

"If you were eavesdropping on me and Boone," I start. "You would've heard that it's my first year."

"Do you do a good job?" he asks.

"Quit prying," I growl. I zip up my suitcase and lock it up. I grab my jacket and put it on. He grabs my shoulder.

"You mentioned hand-to-hand," he says. "Show me what you got."

"Jack would ground me, so to speak," I reply. "It's only been a couple days, Sawyer."

"Just remember that you owe me a match, then," he says. I roll my eyes and walk back to the beach. I ignore the rest of his babbling on the walk. I need to talk to the Marshal when I get there.

I walk into camp and up to Jack, who is talking with Sayid.

"Jack," I say while Sayid and I have a little glaring contest. "Can I speak to the Marshal?"

"Yeah, he's awake," he replies. I look away from Sayid and shift my gaze to Jack.

"Thanks," I say. "I turn and walk into the tent. "Marshal Mars?" I kneel down next to him. "Can you hear me?"

"Who... who are you?" he moans.

"My name is Elizabeth Gordon," I say. "I'm with the military."

"There was... a soldier on the... plane?" he wheezes. He's not looking too good.

"I'm on leave," I say softly. "My father needed me to take him to Sydney."

"She's... dangerous..." he mutters.

"Who?" I ask. "Who is?" He doesn't reply. I just get the same message again. Over and over again. That's all I'll get today. I stand up and leave the tent. I nod to Jack and go sit in my spot by the ocean.

I feel like I owe that blue my life; the ocean, the sky, and Boone. I don't know why, but I've started associating the blue with Boone saving me. It just happened like that.

"Military jacket?" I look up and see Boone standing next to me. He sits down. We're starting to make a habit of this. "What happened to teacher?"

"Both," I say. "Weapons instructor."

"Ah," he says. We sit in silence for a little while, enjoying each other's company.

"Hey Boone?" I say. "Do you think we'll ever get off this island?"

"Hopefully," he replies.

"Boone!" I hear Shannon yell from the camp. We both turn to face her. She's giving us an annoyed look. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, hold on!" he calls back. We turn back to the ocean. "I'll be back later." He stands up and runs up the beach towards her. I stay sitting and look out over the ocean. It's calming.

Someone else sits down next to me. It's Sayid.

"That is a US military jacket," he says. I nod. "I was in the Republican Guard." I look sideways at him. I knew it.

"The Republican Guard," I repeat. The name makes my scars itch. "Why tell me?"

"Because," he starts. "I want us to ignore this about each other right now. We need to survive, not fight." I look back over the ocean.

"Alright," I breathe. "I'll put it aside." He holds out his hand and I turn to face him again. I hesitantly shake it. His touch leaves my hand burning.

Bad memories with the Republican Guard.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I just need some time to believe that this is happening. I'm trapped on a deserted island shaking hands with someone who might have had something to do with the scars on my back. I think a smidgeon of denial is allowed.

I guess I fall asleep, because I open my eyes to a gunshot in the middle of the night. I stand up and run to the tent that the Marshal is in. That's where the gunshot came from. Sawyer walks out with a gun.

"What did you do?!" Jack yells.

"Put him out of his damn misery, that's what," Sawyer replies. Jack runs in.

"You missed," I hear him mutter. I cover my mouth and turn away. I can hear the Marshal's cries. It's sickening. I run from the tent to my little shelter near Boone's, passing him and Shannon as they return from the jungle.

"Liz!" Boone calls after me. He takes off after me. I stop running at my shelter, panting heavily. He comes up next to me. "What's wrong?"

"Sawyer," I mutter, not looking up. "He tried to kill the Marshal to help but he only made it worse." He starts lightly rubbing my back, careful to avoid the metal. I tense slightly, but don't say anything. My breathing is still unsteady and rapid.

"Just breathe," he says. "Take deep breaths." Shannon runs in.

"Boone, what're you-" she cuts off when she sees me struggling. "Is it asthma?" I shake my head. "I'll... go get Jack." She runs out of the shelter.

Boone helps me sit down and I start coughing. It hurts. It hurts so much right now. I cross my arms over my stomach as the coughing gets worse. Jack runs in and Shannon stays outside.

"Liz," Jack says. "Can you breathe at all?" I nod while still coughing. "Boone, get some water." Boone nods and runs off. "Liz, I need you to listen to me right now. You have to calm down." I nod and try to slow my breathing, but that makes it harder to get enough air; so my breathing speeds up again.

"Here," Boone pants, running in with a bottle of water. Jack takes the bottle and opens it, holding it up to my lips.

"Drink," he orders. I slowly start taking sips, making sure that it goes down right. He pulls the bottle away and closes it. I can breathe easier now and the coughing has stopped. "Is it alright now?"

"Better," I croak.

"Talking's a good sign," Jack says. "Now be as quiet as you can." Oxymoron. 100%. He places the back of his hand on my forehead. "You're burning up." He pours some water on a spare piece of cloth and puts it on my forehead. "What happened?"

"All I know is that she ran at a dead sprint," Boone says. "She said it was Sawyer."

"But how did she get sick?" Jack asks.

"She was soaking wet all day yesterday," Boone replies.

"That'll do it," Jack mutters. "Liz, I want you to stay here tonight and stay hydrated and warm." I nod and he leaves. Boone walks up to Shannon. I can hear their conversation.

"I'm staying with Liz tonight," he says. "Make sure she does what Jack says and make sure she doesn't get any worse."

"But what about me?" Shannon protests.

"It's only one night, Shannon," he replies. "Jack will be with her in the morning."

"Whatever," Shannon sighs and walks away. Boone runs off for a minute and comes back with some of the blankets from the plane.

"Here," he says, putting the blankets over me. "You heard him. Stay warm and drink up." He puts a water bottle right next to me. "I'll be with you all night long."

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry if their relationship seems a little rushed T.T but this is following episodes and order, so I don't have long to build it up AND live it out before you-know-who falls in the plane **** I cried. That's all I have to say about that**


	3. Memories of an American Captive

**A/N: So here's chapter 3! I'm just warning you, there **_**is**_** some non-English in here. For those of you who speak German, sorry if I got anything incorrect. I do not speak German and don't fully trust Google translate. For those of you who don't speak German, I'll tell you what the stuff means at the end. Or at least the gist of it cause I wrote it out in my notebook a long time ago so I don't remember exactly. We've got some flashbacks this chapter, including Republican Guard bad memories. Enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to review!**

* * *

-Memories Of An American Captive-

* * *

The sun rose and fell again. I still have a high fever, and Boone is still right here with me. I'm so hot. He gave me five or six of those blankets.

"Boone," I groan. "Can you take away some of the blankets? I'm too hot." He's sitting next to me reading.

"No," he replies. "We're going to sweat the sick out of you. Jack told you to stay warm."

"Warm, not melting," I say quietly.

"I'll take one away for half an hour," he says, taking one of the blankets and folding it up. I close my eyes.

* * *

_I carefully step over the bodies littering the ground. Three weeks I've been here; three weeks in Iraq. I grimace as I see my dead teammates, my friends._

_I clutch my shoulder. I got shot and blacked out in the middle of the fighting. It probably saved my life. I glance at the wound. It's bleeding heavily. I won't last long._

_My vision starts to go a little fuzzy. I'm losing, bleeding too much. I get suddenly dizzy, and start hearing shouting in a language I don't recognize. I look around me and see myself outnumbered._

* * *

I wake up when Boone puts that blanket back on me. It's dark out. I can see a huge fire on the other side of the beach.

"Boone?" I ask groggily.

"You're awake," he observes.

"Yeah," I reply. "What are they doing over there?"

"They're having a memorial," he explains. "For the people who died in the crash."

"I need to go," I say, trying to sit up. He stops me.

"No," he says. "You need more rest."

"I have to say something for my father," I protest. I eventually hold his gaze.

"Alright," he gives in, helping me stand up. "Five minutes." He wraps one of the blankets around my shoulders. We walk to the memorial.

I listen silently as Claire reads off another name.

* * *

_I glare at my captors as the hood is taken off of my head. I'm bound t a chair, all of my weapons are gone. There are three of them. One at the door behind me, one directly in front of me, and one off to my right, the one to my right looks like he's enjoying himself in his little corner of torture toys. Oh, I see them alright._

_So they're going to interrogate me._

"_I want you to tell me," the man in front of me starts. "Where the rest of you are camped."_

"_And why would I do that?" I growl._

"_So we don't have to hurt you," he replies._

"_Like you'll just leave me alone," I mutter. I'm not telling these guys anything._

"_If that is your choice," he says. He nods to his friend in the corner and walks away._

_The man walks up to me with some sharp little sticks. He's going to need a lot more than that to get me to tell him anything._

"_All you have to do is tell me," he repeats. He walks behind me and grabs one of my wrists. I feel a sharp intense pain from under one of my fingernails._

_I have to bite my lip until I bleed to keep myself from screaming._

"_You'll have to do better than that," I mutter._

* * *

"Jacob Gordon," Claire reads off. I look up.

"I'd like to say something," I say. Everyone looks at me. "He was my father, and a very independent one at that. He liked doing everything for himself, never accepted any help. We went to Australia in the first place so he and I could get to know each other better. I don't exactly know why we went anywhere, but he wanted to so we did. We had the most amazing time. I'm glad I finally got to know him before I died." By the end, my voice shakes and a few tears slip down my face.

"Thank you, Liz," Claire says. "Well said." She continues to read off more names.

Boone puts his arm around my shoulders and walks me back to the shelter. I lay back down and he drowns me in blankets again.

"Get some rest," he says. "Jack will check up on you in the morning."

* * *

_I bite my lip and shriek into my closed mouth. Sore fingers. They really think that's enough?_

_The man sighs and gives up with the sticks. Bring it on, whatever you've got next._

_Bring. It. On._

_He walks up to me with a new weapon, a red-hot metal rod. He slowly presses it onto my back and rolls it around. I scream. I scream until my throat is dry and my back feels like it's melting off; but I won't give them any words._

_He dumps a bucket of ice water down my back. I can't decide whether this or the metal rod was worse._

_They want words? I'll give them words._

"_Sie können__mich nicht dazu__sagen__Sie nichts__," I growl, switching to my second language. "__So__geben__Sie Ihr Bestes__."_

"_What?" my interrogator asks._

"_Ich werde mich nicht wiederholen," I mutter. "Sie sollten einfach aufgeben."_

"…_German…" he murmurs. "I need a German translator!"_

"_Ich sah eine glänzende Felsen gestern," I say stubbornly when the translator walks in. He won't last ten minutes if I start babbling. "Mein Handy nimmt nur Signals unter Wasser. Ich denke, dass sollten Sie Ihre Haare grün färben. Warum? Denn grün ist eine kühle Farbe. Und sollten Sie wirklich überprüfen Sie Ihre Wasserversorgung. Ich schwöre, ich roch Schwefel. Und die Metallstange war bei weitem nicht heiβ genug. Sie brauchen neue techniken. Wie auch immer, ich glaube, Sie sollten mir ein paar Eier, bevor ich jetzt verrückt zu gehen. Wie klingt das?"_

_The translator looks incredibly confused. HA!_

"_I think she's lost it," he says hesitantly._

"_So," I say. "How about them eggs?"_

* * *

_I regret doing that to the translator. Sure, it was fun, but the consequences are far from it. I got the rod again, a knife on the burning skin, the rod again, then the ice water._

_Fifteen times._

* * *

My eyes snap open. Sunlight. And Jack. No Boone. Jack puts his hand on my head.

"I'd say you're good to go," he says. I smile happily and sit up. I _feel_ a lot better too.

A few days after that German incident, I was able to run away. I don't remember exactly how, though. I remember a lot of kicking, running, and hiding. I made it back to camp and was sent back home to instruct recruits based on my experience

"Where's Boone?" I ask.

"Getting you food," he replies. He stands up. "Your ribs are healing well, too. I'll give you some PT exercises later." He walks away as Boone comes back.

"Pork?" he asks, offering me a shell with some meat inside.

"No way," I say disbelievingly, taking the shell. I eat a small piece. It tastes like barbequed pork. "It's _so_ good."

He smiles and eats a small piece. I take another. We're on a deserted island and we're eating barbeque. I laugh. It feels good to laugh. And it doesn't hurt anymore. He laughs along with me.

Here I am. Broken ribs, recovering from being sick, and lost; yet I'm sharing a laugh with someone I met only because of those bad things. Maybe it won't be so bad after all.

* * *

**A/N: End chapter! So, I've been having writers block on chapter 5. that's kinda why I've been meh about updating. I like having more chapters written than posted. That's kinda just how my mind works. So when I have writers block on chapter 5, I don't exactly want to post chapter 4. but I'm getting there, I promise. I wrote a sentence today! Slow and steady wins the race :P **

**German translations:  
So, the first thing she said was along the lines of: You can't make me tell you anything, so give it your best shot  
Then: I will not repeat myself, you should just give up  
And the big thing is: ****I saw ****a shiny ****rock ****yesterday. ****My ****phone only ****accepts ****signal ****under water.****I ****think you ****should ****dye your hair ****green.****Why****? ****Because ****green ****is ****a cool color****. ****And ****you really should ****check your ****water supply****. ****I swear I****smelled ****sulfur.****And**** the metal rod ****was****nt hot ****enough ****by far.****You ****need new t****echniques.****Anyway,****I ****think you should**** give me some**** eggs before ****I go**** crazy now****. ****How**** does that sound?**

**don't forget to review!**


End file.
